noticed the array of
ridiculous, hideous, and grotesque pictures, and wished to know what they
were for. She saw underneath them the words--drunkard--idler--glutton, etc.
etc. She very soon remarked that the drunkard resembled the coachman, the
cross and meddling person the cook, the pedant her own teacher, and thus
she proved the infallibility of Lavater!

Once, when in the convent at Paris, she was misled by the poetry of
Catholicism, and abandoned herself to the highest transports of
religious fervor. She passed whole hours in ecstasy at the foot of the
altar. This shows the susceptibility of her imagination. About this time
her grandmother died, and she left the convent to close the eyes of her
much-loved grandparent. She returned, with the full determination of
becoming religious. All the authority of her family was required to
break this resolution, and, six months after, to prevail upon her to
marry M. le baron Dudevant, the man they had sought out to be her
husband. He was a retired soldier and a gentleman farmer. The union was
a very unhappy one. She was sensitive, proud, and passionate, while he
was cold, and entirely swallowed up in his agricultural pursuits. The
dowry of Aurore amounted to one hundred thousand dollars, and this money
M. Dudevant spent with a lavish hand upon his farm, but bestowed little
attention upon his wife. At first she endured this life, for two
children were given to her to alleviate her sorrows. But finding her lot
grow more sad, and her health failing, she was ordered to taste the
waters of the Pyrenees, whither she went, but without her husband. She
rested at Bordeaux, and there made her entrance into society, through
some kind friends residing in that city. She was received with praises.
A wealthy shipping merchant fell deeply in love with her; she did not
give way to it, however, but returned to her family, where she found no
affection to welcome her.

Jules Sandeau, a student of law, spent one of his vacations at the
chateau Nahant, and was the first person who turned Madame Dudevant's
attention to literary pursuits. He returned to Paris profoundly in love
with the lady, though he had not dared to mention it. M. Nerard, a
botanist, came also to the chateau, to give lessons to M. Dudevant, and
his wife was charmed with him, and they spent happy hours together. But
in time love grew out of the intimacy--a love which of course was
wicked, but which according to French ideas, was i